


Suppose We Never Fell Apart

by mydeira



Series: Something Maybe 'Verse [16]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes the world nearly ending to start over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suppose We Never Fell Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: through “End of Days”
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I am neither RTD nor the BBC. This is purely for the exorcism of the big bad bunny that landed on my head.
> 
> A/N: Follows Lonely Gets You Somewhere and takes place after the episode “End of Days.” This is the sixteenth installment in the Something Maybe ‘Verse. Most of what we saw in “Captain Jack Harkness/End of Days” transpires pretty much the same way in my little ‘verse. The title is yanked from “Fidelity” by Regina Spektor. While this is by no means the end of the Something Maybe ‘Verse, I’m putting it on hiatus until October when the new series starts up. I doubt I will be able to survive nine months without writing something for them, but installments will be extremely sporadic. Thank you for reading, and I hope you’ve enjoyed this as much as I have. And thank you to sadbhyl for her keen eye and support with this.

Gwen kicked the side of her car.

“Shit.” The spare was just as flat as the driver’s side tire she needed to change out. It was another on the long list of annoyances for the day. She was positive she still reeked of the alien slime despite the extra long shower she’d taken before heading home for the night. And now, if the throbbing of her big toe was any indication, she’d just given herself a stubbed toe. The way her luck was running, she had probably broken it.

Well, there was nothing for it but to go back and call for a cab since her damn mobile was dead on top of everything else. Ianto would give her a lift in the SUV if she asked, but Gwen hated to drag him away for something so pointless, even though it would do him some good.

While Gwen had somehow become the de facto leader since Jack’s disappearance almost a month earlier, it was Ianto who was really running the show. She felt unfaithful for thinking it, but things went a lot smoother now, were less chaotic. Maybe it was because everyone was a bit more committed, trying to make up for their mistakes. At least, she knew she was.

She started back to the Hub but was stopped as Owen pulled up beside her.

The window rolled down. “Car trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Just going to go ring up a cab and sort it in the morning.”

He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. She heard the car locks click. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Get in the car, Gwen.” There was a slight hint of exasperation in his voice. “Wouldn’t be much of a friend if I let you take a cab at this hour, would I?”

Friend. Gwen felt a twinge of regret at the word. It was better than nothing and a hell of a lot better than being at each other’s throats, but it could have been so much more. Just one more thing she’d royally fucked up.

“Thanks.” She forced a smile and circled around to the passenger’s side. Climbing in, she said wistfully, “I miss your other car.”

“It was a good car,” he said, eyes flicking over to her and quickly away. He shrugged and shifted the car into gear. “But when the lease was up and it was time for a change.”

Convenient that, she thought bitterly. No. She refused to go there. She had moved on. Made herself move on. When she’d been sitting with Jack for those three days, waiting for him to wake up after Abbadon, she’d had a lot of time to reflect on things, on how selfish she had been. She had resolved then to handle things better, especially with regards to Rhys. Little did she know that while she had been sitting with Jack, the situation with Rhys sorted itself. And though it may make her a coward, she was grateful that it had.

“Here we are,” Owen said, pulling up in front of her flat.

“Already?” She must have nodded off.

His grin was genuine. “See, now aren’t you glad you didn’t take that cab?”

Yes and no. No because if she had taken a cab, she wouldn’t be about to take a chance that could very well fuck things up. “Do you want to come in for a drink?” Gwen asked before she could stop herself.

Owen gaped at her. “You just ask me in for a drink, Cooper?” She nodded. “Old Rhys out of town or something?”

“Or something,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze. Deciding to cut her losses, she reached for the door and got out. “Forget I said anything. Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” She beat a hasty retreat.

She was halfway up the walk when Owen caught up with her. Grabbing her wrist gently, he turned her to face him. “Now you’ve got me curious. What’s going on, Gwen?”

“Nothing, Owen. It’s nothing,” she said, trying to convince them both. “I’m tired and I still smell that Yknal all over me. It’s been a long day, and I’m not thinking straight.”

“Gwen, look at me.” She did, reluctantly. “He left you, didn’t he?”

This wasn’t how she’d wanted people—Owen to find out. Of course the truth would have come out eventually, but, well, with better planning.

“When?”

“About a month ago.”

His eyes widened.

She sighed. “I came home the morning after Jack disappeared to find a note on the fridge and Rhys’ clothes gone. He got fed up with waiting, and I can’t say as I blame him.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, if you call three years of taking a bloke for granted ‘just’, then yeah,” she said wryly.

“You never said a word.” Owen seemed stunned.

“There’s plenty enough shit to deal with at work without me dragging my personal life into it.” She grimaced. “Though I don’t suppose that really stopped me before. Rhys this and Rhys that. It’s a wonder none of you tried to throttle me.”

“It’s not like Jack didn’t encourage you,” he said, releasing her finally. “Always going on about you keeping your normal life, knowing full well that it’s just not possible at Torchwood.”

“He was so damned set on me doing that, but it didn’t stop him from dragging me away from dinner to go chase down a Weevil.” Then with a short laugh, she added, “I can’t say as I minded. Never been so glad to go on a Weevil hunt in my life.”

Owen smiled faintly.

They stood there in silence until Gwen shivered. It was bloody freezing out. “I should head in,” she said.

“So, I take it that the drink offer is formally rescinded?” His tone was light, and yet…

“Offer still stands. I just assumed, well, I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Never assume, Cooper.” He grinned cheekily. “Besides, I fully intended to go home and drink, and everyone knows that it’s a very bad idea to drink alone.”

Gwen led the way inside. She busied herself pouring the drinks while Owen explored the flat.

“Not much for decorating, are you?” he commented.

“I can’t stand clutter.” She still had the few odd knickknacks lying about the place, but she’d packed up all the pictures and other miscellany for Rhys to pick up. They were mostly his to begin with.

“So how’d you luck out and get the flat?” Owen asked as she brought him his drink.

“It was mine to begin with, so Rhys figured I should keep it. Doesn’t make much sense since I’m hardly ever here. But that’s the way of it.” She sipped her whiskey. “Fortunately, there’s only three months left on the lease. I figure I’ll find something closer to work. Something smaller, too. There’s too much space here for just me.”

Owen leaned back against the bookcase. “Don’t move closer. It’s good to have some distance from things. You’d be amazed what the few extra minutes it takes to get to the Hub in the morning can do for your sanity.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She went and sat on the couch. Needing a change of subject, she asked, “So, how have you been, Owen?”

He smirked as he joined her on the couch. “You see me everyday, sweetheart.”

Gwen rolled her eyes.

“Same old, same old as they say,” he said finally. “Though I suppose things have been rather uneventful in my life considering I’ve managed to go a month without getting mauled or shot. Might be a new record.”

“I still can’t believe Ianto shot you.”

“I can. Now. He’s a right cold-hearted bastard when he wants to be.” Owen grimaced, looking away. “Though I suppose we can all be cold-hearted bastards when we want to be.”

“You did what you thought was needed, Owen. We all did.” Then after a moment, she added, “Shooting Jack, well, I don’t think there was any other way to stop him.”

“Easy for you to say, knowing his big secret. I didn’t.” His voice was hollow. “Shot him three times and didn’t hesitate.” He tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “What kind of person does that?”

Gwen set down her glass and moved closer to Owen. Resting her hand lightly over his, she eased the empty glass from his crushing grip.

“You did what you had to, Owen.”

He shook his head. “It was Jack, not some deserving bastard like Ed Morgan. I killed a friend, not a monster. That’s not right.”

“Owen, look at me,” she said firmly. He continued to stare at his hands. “Owen.”

Finally he looked at her, the barest hint of the devastation he had worn that day still lingering, though it was almost overshadowed by the dark circles just starting to come to prominence under his eyes. “What?” he muttered.

“You’ve got to let it go, Owen.”

He snorted derisively. “Easier said than done. But you already know that, don’t you, Gwen? Bet you still dream about stabbing Ed Morgan.”

“No, I don’t,” she said honestly. Owen’s face showed his doubt. “Not since the run in with Suzie and that bloody glove. Lately, though, it’s been Rhys.” Gwen was proud of how casual she sounded. The dreams were downright terrifying. Rhys had essentially taken Ed Morgan’s place. She was the one plunging the knife into his soft yielding flesh. Once, twice and twisting just so. But there was no horror at the act like she had felt with Ed Morgan. Instead there was an unmistakable sense of satisfaction. Of relief. She more than welcomed the old dreams over these.

“Gwen?”

She blinked, focusing on Owen. Swallowing, she said, “No, it’s not easy. But what you did was necessary. If you don’t let it go… There’s too much else to be doing to waste your time over pointless guilt. So, get over it, Owen.”

His face was impassive for a moment before breaking into a slow grin. “You’re worried about me.”

“Of course I am,” she replied, wondering why that would amuse him. “I’ve been worried about you for awhile.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” The words were more fond than accusatory.

“Things have been—”

“Yeah, they have,” he cut her off. His hand moved from underneath hers, twisting around to hold it. She found the gesture incredibly touching. They hadn’t exactly been the hands holding type when they were together. It just didn’t factor into the equation. Maybe because it was too intimate somehow, too much what they weren’t.

She curled her hand closer around Owen’s, reacquainting herself with the feel. “I’ve always liked your hands.” Only after she spoke did Gwen realize she said the words out loud. She felt herself blush slightly. “Sorry.” She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because… I don’t know.” She shrugged.

His thumb began to stroke lightly along the back of her hand. “I’ve missed you, Gwen.”

Gwen wasn’t sure if it was the words themselves or Owen’s voice, low and sincere, that made her ache more.

“Missed you, too,” she admitted softly, watching his thumb move back and forth.

“I should probably go,” Owen said after a moment.

“Please don’t,” she said, even though he had yet to suit action to words.

There was something like hope in his eyes. “You want me to stay?”

“The night. Yes.” She had spent too much time these last few months unwilling to commit to any course of action.

“I think I can manage that.”

Afraid of losing her nerve, Gwen stood and pulled Owen up with her. “Would you like another drink?”

He shook his head.

“Good.” She tugged him to follow as she led the way to her bedroom.

If her living room was sparsely decorated, her bedroom was practically Spartan. It was a place to sleep and store her clothes, nothing more.

“You really don’t live here, do you?” Owen observed quietly.

“No.” It was a sad fact when one got right down to it. But she was really alright with that.

She faced Owen and asked, “It’s not too late, is it?”

“It’d be a lot better for us both if it were,” he said, taking a step to close the distance between them.

“Maybe.”

The kiss, when it finally happened, was only memorable in that it was the most awkward in Gwen’s experience next to her first kiss. Their noses collided as they tried to anticipate each other. The second attempt was just as horrible.

Gwen couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “You’d think we’d never done this before.”

“With anyone,” Owen added with a chuckle. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

She leaned in, enjoying the familiar feel of him and the faint sense of peace she always felt when he held her.

“Maybe we shouldn’t rush things,” he said against her hair.

There really wasn’t any reason to hurry. “Maybe,” she agreed. Then she asked, “Will you still stay the night?”

There was amusement coloring his voice when he spoke. “And just sleep with you?”

She smiled against his chest. “Yeah, actually.” She looked up. “That all right with you?”

He nodded. “It really is.”

Gwen shed her shoes as Owen did, then went over to switch off the light. She crawled onto the bed fully clothed, and he joined her a moment later. Tugging the afghan up from the bottom of the bed to cover them both, he curled up behind her.

“Goodnight, Gwen,” he said, left arm falling loosely and naturally over her waist.

She couldn’t help but smile as she snuggled back against him, feeling more content than she had in ages. “Thank you, Owen.”

~*~

Owen woke up to the familiar and too long absent smell of Gwen’s shampoo. It was amazing how something so simple could make him feel happier than he had felt in a long time. God, he was pathetic. But the fact of that didn’t take the grin from his lips. Pathetic he may be, but he was happy. And happy was good.

He pulled her closer, feeling her warm, soft curves mold to his body. She gave a pleased little sigh in response, but otherwise remained asleep.

He had forgotten how much he enjoyed just sleeping with her. The sex had always been incredible, but ever since that first time when she’d stayed the night, curled next to him this was what he most looked forward to. Gwen Cooper was the only person Owen could recall that he was just as satisfied sleeping with as shagging. Definitely pathetic. His grin deepened.

Gwen stirred, turning in his arms. Her eyes blinked sleepily open. “You’re still here,” she murmured and looked thoroughly pleased with the realization.

He brushed the wild strand of hair away from her face. “I am.”

“Did you sleep all right?”

“I did, yeah.” Probably the best he had in months.

“Good.” She kissed him lightly on the lips, then started to get up.

The easy impulsiveness of the gesture had a greater effect on him than the physical contact did. It wasn’t awkward like the previous evening. It felt natural and very, very right.

Owen tugged her back down and caught her lips before she had a chance to protest. He kept the kiss gentle and teasingly shallow. It was languid and relaxed and he made no move to press things further. Neither did Gwen. She seemed as content as he was with the simple exploration.

There was a mixture of uncertainty and delight on her face when they finally pulled apart.

“That was new,” she breathed. “Why?”

He shrugged. “It felt like the right thing to do.”

Her brow furrowed for a moment as if she were considering something, and then she was kissing him. There was still no hint of demand in the act.

He rolled back so she lay on top of him and followed her slow lead. Even though his body was starting to wake up and respond to her touch, Owen really didn’t care if things went much beyond this. It was new and different and Gwen was in his arms again. That was enough.

Hours may have passed or only a few minutes, nothing registered for him outside of Gwen—the feel of her, her responses, the little sounds she made…

“I feel like a bloody teenager,” Gwen giggled, pushing herself up to peer down at him, dark hair cascading down, further shutting the world out from his senses.

“Without the nerve-wracking awkwardness.”

“Exactly.”

“Or fixation on what comes next,” he added.

She grinned as she leaned down to kiss him again. The alarm clock sounded, startling them apart.

“You always keep it that loud?” Owen grumbled as she reached over to switch it off.

“It gets me up,” she said, rolling off of him.

“I’m surprised it doesn’t give you a heart attack.”

She swatted him playfully. “Not all of us can get up to the sound of the machine switching on.”

“It just takes discipline.”

Gwen snickered as she sat up. “You want first shower?”

“What?” He rolled his head to the side to peer up at her.

“You do still keep a change of clothes in your car, right?” He nodded. “Wouldn’t you rather shower here where the water’s guaranteed to be hot versus the Hub where you’re lucky if it reaches lukewarm?”

She had a point. “You go first. Just leave me some water.”

“I can manage that.” She crawled out of the bed, then stopped, turning back to him. “You want to join me?”

Pale skin, glistening in the water, begging to be touched—he groaned. So tempting. “Want to, yes. Should? Probably not. Unless you don’t mind calling in sick today,” he said with a hopeful note. “Because if I get in there with you, sweetheart, we won’t be getting out for a very long time.”

From the look on her face, he could tell she was seriously considering it. “It wouldn’t be fair to Tosh and Ianto, would it?”

No, it wouldn’t. Tempting as it was. “Go on. Shower. I can manage to keep myself out of trouble for a few minutes.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” She grinned. “If you’re interested, the coffee maker’s by the sink. It doesn’t hold a candle to Ianto’s, but it usually wakes me up.”

With that, Gwen headed off to the shower.

Owen slipped on his shoes and ran out to grab his duffle from the car. When he returned, he decided to give Gwen’s coffee a try. The machine was by the sink, but the coffee wasn’t in plain sight. A quick search of her cupboards revealed that Gwen was even less domestic than he was. There was the bare minimum of pots and pans, very few and very mismatched dishes, and food-wise, if her refrigerator was any indication, she lived mostly off take-away. It seemed Rhys really had been a househusband.

He found the coffee tucked away by the mugs. At least there seemed to be some logic associated with the sparse and randomly outfitted kitchen. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed it was a bloke that lived here. There were a few feminine touches here and there, but for the most part Gwen Cooper lived like a bachelor. And he knew, didn’t he?

After getting the coffee started, Owen continued his exploration of the kitchen. The more he saw, the more his earlier opinion was confirmed.

“Find anything interesting?” Gwen asked, startling him from his perusal of cereal boxes.

He smirked at her, turning to lean back against the counter. “Your kitchen is barer than mine. And that’s saying something.”

“I haven’t had time to go shopping.” She busied herself with pouring the coffee. “I spend most of my time at the Hub anyway, so there’s really no need.”

“Everyone gets sick of take-away and pre-packaged food after awhile,” he commented.

“I’ve never been all that big on cooking. Especially when it’s just me. It’s easier to pull something out of a box or ring up for delivery.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“Here.” She handed him one of the mugs. He noted that it was the newer looking of the two.

He took a tentative sip of the coffee. Definitely not as good as Ianto’s. Though Owen hadn’t been able to prove it yet, he suspected that there was something more than the usual ingredients. Still, this stuff was decent enough.

Gwen mirrored his position, leaning against the opposite counter, looking completely at ease in her worn cotton bathrobe and damp hair.

“Isn’t that a bit girly for you?” he asked.

Her lips curled in amusement. “It was a gift from my mum about five years back. Hideous old thing but comfortable as hell.”

“Hideous but adorable,” he commented without thinking.

“Adorable?” Her amusement seemed to increase.

Owen couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed. God, he was turning into a sap. “Yes,” he replied finally, setting his mug on the counter. Things were getting a little too comfortable for his tastes. “I should probably hit that shower.”

Gwen grabbed him as he passed, fingers curling over the waistband of his jeans, dragging him close. “What’s wrong, Owen?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just getting late.”

“Since when have you ever worried about being late?” Those enormous eyes of hers regarded him searchingly.

“I have no problem getting to work late,” he protested, wishing her hand was anywhere else. It was damned distracting hanging out where it was, so close to where he’d like it.

Her next comment caught him off-guard. “I thought things were better between us.”

“They are.” At least he’d thought they were.

“So, what’s wrong then?”

“Nothing.”

Again with the big eyes that didn’t miss anything.

What was the point in lying? “Things were feeling too comfortable.”

“And that’s bad?” There was no hint of sarcasm in the query.

“We’re not supposed to be comfortable, Gwen,” he sighed. “We were just supposed to be a distraction for each other, remember?”

“It was never just a distraction. You figured that out long before I did, tried to get me to see that. But I wasn’t ready.” She released him, her hands moving to brace herself against the counter. “I never meant to hurt you, Owen. But I did. And I’m sorry for that.”

He hadn’t been after an apology from her, yet hearing the words helped. “You weren’t ready,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to choose between me and Rhys. Especially after you nearly died.”

“What better time?”

Which is exactly the point he’d been trying to make then. Owen smirked. They’d have avoided a lot of trouble if they could manage to be on the same page at the same time. Though, it seemed like it might have finally happened.

On impulse, he kissed her. It was quick but he lingered just a bit.

He felt her smile as he pulled away. “What was that for?”

“Thank you,” he said simply. “I’d best grab that shower.”

“Not just yet.” She gripped his shirt, holding him there. “That wasn’t a proper thank you kiss,” she said impishly.

“It wasn’t?” He had a feeling he was going to enjoy this.

She shook her head. “No.” She curled a hand around his neck. “This is proper.” Then she kissed him, and it was anything but quick. He let her lead, enjoying the gradual build as she deepened the contact, pressing closer to him. Unlike earlier, this was the kind of kiss that led to more, a slow seduction.

“Keep that up, sweetheart, and we are going to be very late,” he murmured against her lips.

“You never used to be this worried about punctuality before, Owen.”

“I’m still not. But I know it annoys you.”

“Not always.” She stroked lightly along his neck with one hand, making him shiver pleasantly, while she started working on the fastening of his jeans with the other.

Right. He was making a point here. He forced himself to focus. “Gwen, unless I had your undivided attention, you were always chomping at the bit when it got too close to the start of the work day.”

She blinked up at him innocently. “Then you’d better get my undivided attention, Owen.”

He’d missed this side of her, wickedly playful and utterly irresistible. Slowly, he untied the belt of her robe. “I think I can manage that,” he said as he eased the sides apart, slipping his hands in to settle against her waist. Naked skin still extra warm from the shower quivered beneath his fingertips. God, she was always so responsive.

Owen kissed her then, hard and hungry and taking charge of things.

She was eager and welcoming as he pressed her into the kitchen counter. Space between them was at a minimum, but she still managed to work open the fastening of his jeans.

“Up,” she ordered against his lips.

And he obliged, lifting her until she settled on the counter top, legs opening to invite him closer. He waited until she shoved denim and cotton down before stepping in, his unencumbered cock making contact with hot, wet heat.

Gwen broke the kiss, and soon he felt her breath teasing against her ear. “I’m not feeling very distracted.”

“I think I can change that,” he said, migrating his hand from her hip to tease through coarse hair and between soft lips to find moist, needy flesh. She bucked at his first insistent press against her clit. “Like that, hm?” He circled the firm nub and moved downward.

The only response he received was a heady moan that may or may not have started out as actual words. Yeah, he’d missed her.

Owen knew he wasn’t going to last long once he buried himself inside her, but he wasn’t so eager for this to go too fast either. With great reluctance, he extracted his fingers from her quim and stepped back.

Her eyes snapped open. “Owen?” It was part protest and part question.

“Be patient,” he informed her as he shoved his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off and kicked them aside. He toed his socks off as he slipped off his shirt. Then he dropped to his knees and nudged her legs farther apart. The counter couldn’t have been built at a more perfect height. “Now, then, where was I?”

Before she could reply, he was leaning forward, tongue leading as he delved into her enticing pussy. He groaned at the first taste of her after so long. She was everything he remembered and more. A little salty, a little tart…it was sex and Gwen. In a word: heaven.

He pressed in, reacquainting himself with every fold and contour, every spot that made her twitch or gasp just so. He felt her fingers run through his hair, seeking purchase, flexing a little harder when he managed to hit an area just right.

She was so close. He could feel the tiny tremors and quakes of her body holding on and trying to let go. But then she was tugging him up, calling his name.

The hoarse cry of, “Owen. Need you!” finally got through.

He stood. Feeling more than a little smug, he said, “You certain about that?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she growled, pulling him into a fierce kiss with one hand while the other guided his cock home.

Who was he to argue?

Owen very nearly lost it at the first touch of the slick, molten heat of her pussy. He’d been so caught up in Gwen that he hadn’t given much thought to himself or to how close he was.

“Fuck,” he breathed, holding very still and trying to keep himself together.

“Good to know we’re on equal footing here,” Gwen chuckled. Her legs wrapped around him to pull him closer.

He couldn’t help but grin as he pulled back far enough to look at her. “Something tells me you still have the advantage.”

There was a delighted gleam in her eyes. “Always.” And she was kissing him again.

Finally, he trusted himself enough to move. Smooth, steady strokes, out and in, building as he lost himself in her. Gwen’s hips moved in counterpoint to his, adding friction, urging him on. Too soon he was functioning purely on instinct and need, driving into her, desperate for release. Her walls clenched tight around him, dragging him over.

They stayed there, clinging to each other for a short eternity. Owen found himself very grateful that Gwen’s kitchen cabinets had proven so sturdy.

“Good morning,” Gwen purred, nipping lightly at his ear.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me,” he laughed. He reluctantly started to draw away. “It seems like we’ll be sharing the shower after all.”

“Damn.” She took his proffered hands and jumped down.

“You sound so upset about that.”

She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “Very.” The kiss she gave him was pure sin.

“Oi, keep that up and we won’t make it out of the kitchen.”

“Well, at least it sees some use this way.”

He shook his head, trying not to grin too much. He stepped away and tugged her along with him towards the bathroom.

“Think we’ll make it in by lunchtime?” she asked, hands wandering as they walked.

“Only if you behave yourself.”

“Good, I’ll try not to.”

Owen had every intention of seeing she didn’t as well.


End file.
